


Princes of the Universe

by thefeelingillforget



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Hansel and Gretel Elements, M/M, Prince!Jean, Witch!Marco, not beta read we die like men, they fall in love in a couple of hours nothing weird haha ha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefeelingillforget/pseuds/thefeelingillforget
Summary: Jean is a prick, Marco just wants to help





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [approaching_asymmetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/approaching_asymmetry/gifts).



> this one incredibly long for my standards holy moly, i just hope you like it!! also, i based the hänsel and gretel elements off of engelbert humperdinck's opera about the fairytale because it's the best one i know!  
> the title was inspired by this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEJ8lpCQbyw   
> anyways, have fun reading!

The comfortable darkness was suddenly, and very rudely, may I add, replaced by a blinding brightness piercing through my closed eyelids causing me to groan sleepily in complaint.  The next thing I saw after taking a moment to adjust to the light being let in t hanks to the newly drawn back curtains was the smiling face of my mum.

“Come on, Marco. Rise and shine! Hurry a little and help me with breakfast, please? Ymir only got back home quite late last night since she was on stand-by duty, so she will join us a little later. The kettle's already sitting above the fire, so it would be nice if you could assist me soon, yeah?”

I simply nodded, sleep still clouding my mind, lazily swung my legs out of the comfort of my straw-stuffed mattress and headed towards the small closet opposite of my bed in order to get dressed for the day while my mum already left for the kitchen again.

While blindly choosing one of the few tunics I own and searching for yesterday's pants  that I must have put somewhere near my desk chair I mull ed over whether  my mam  had a busy night. Since her and my mum are the local witches in our small town of Trost they tend to doing night shifts since there has been a strange kind of disease lately, mostly occurring in the less rich quarters  of Trost's outskirts that no doctor seemed to be able to cure  and only the both of them  could help the patients thanks to their incredible knowledge on healing which I  am in the process of learning. It's giving me quite a hard time, the  whole healing thing , I mean, but  it's worth every single frustrating study session with my parents if the outcome will be that I can keep the family business running.

Smiling triumphantly upon the successful search for my pants I quickly finish dressing myself and stride into the kitchen in order to fulfill the promise that I made earlier.

My appearance seem s to relieve my mum as she smile s while instructing me which vegetables to cut in stripes, which to dice and which  ones to throw into the kettle first. I am doing quite well in my opinion, yet mum still seems to find small mistakes to bug me about like the countless times the more or less blunt knife has missed these carrots by mere inches and had cut my fingers instead which was in no way my fault, of course.

I dare to interrupt the comfortable silence we have fallen into while preparing our meal by asking “How did last night go for mam? Were there any major incidents?”

Thinking it over for a moment my mum finally answers “Not that I know of. She did seem to be quite exhausted, but as I know her it was only because she patrolled around town with Connie and Sasha to be able to detect new patients. Despite being night watchmen, they are quite a loud and quirky lot and, as a result, too much for your mam to handle, you know?” 

I chuckle and shake my head at the mental image of the three of them strolling around town  in the dark of the night, probably throwing joking insults at each other and arguing over the smallest things. They are an odd pair of friends indeed, but close friends nonetheless  and one can be assured that there will be a lot of laughter when they are around. 

“I take it that the disease is slowly dying down, then? The both of you are having more relaxed nights as of lately, it seems.” I inquire in all seriousness, despite the amusing thoughts from before.

“Yes, you are right. I just hope it will stay that way. Trost has suffered enough because of this illness. It is time for the people to finally be free of it.” my mum answers while absentmindedly stirring the already deliciously smelling soup. The memories of the last few months must be haunting her thoughts, so I make an attempt to attract her focus away from the, as I assume, disturbing pictures.

“Mum, I think I finished cutting everything. Is there anything else I could help you with?”

C oming back to reality, she tries to come up with something for me to do. After a quick glance towards the kettle she's still stirring around in she smiles brightly.

“Actually, yes! Would you be so kind and go collect some bay leaves from the forest, dear? I am certain that it would add a nice character to the dish. And bring some berries, too. Those raspberries from the clearing! You know how much Ymir loves them. Maybe we could all eat together once you're back?”

I smile back at her as I nod in agreement and begin to clean up my small “working space”. As soon as I am finished with the task and put the knife safely away I grab our largest basket from one of the cupboards and kiss my mum on the cheek to say good bye. “I will be off, then. See you later, love you!” Pressing her lips to my own freckled cheek in return she replies “Come back as soon as possible. Don't go too far away from the house and please be careful out there, you hear me?” Knowing that with my mum there is no use in arguing I promise her “I will,  so please do not worry too much about me. ”

“I would never! Good bye, I love you, too!” she chuckles and taps my the tip of my nose with her index finger before turning around in order to add some spices to our breakfast.

An endearing grin on my face I leave the skew-whiff hut  with the variegated herb gardes I proudly call my home and make my way into the forest surrounding it. I, once again, find myself being warmed by the love  of Christa since she never fails to make me feel like our little family is the place where I truly belong . Conversations like the one before may seem so simple,  like a matter of course, but to me Ymir and her, their natural, easy way of showing their love and their accepting, warm personalities mean mean the world to me.

Throwing one last glance back at our modest home I realise that after all those years it still looks like the first time its peculiar exterior has caught my eye. Suddenly I feel like the time has turned back and my tiny, slightly chubby six-year-old self instead is now standing in front of the house  that looked intimidatingly bewitched and foreign. The same feelings as back then well up once more, thus fear, painful grief, hopelessness, longing and the sheer panic that comes with the knowledge of not being able to live for much longer and having to die alone, without the ones you love all create the unmistakable mixture of my past, of the life before I got as lucky as I am right now.

Vigorously shaking my head and hastily going further into the forest I try to fully return to reality and truly, as the ghosts of former sentiments fade, only one of them manages to remain. The grief about what happened is still haunting me,  fifteen years later, and it seems that it will not ever let me rest.

A s much as I attempt to fight them, the memories come flooding back. All of them.

And so it happens that the first time in what feels like an eternity, while blindly stumbling through the coolness of the brushwood, I think of my father's face again.

It was not that we were unhappy living in Shiganshina. We were alone, that is true, my mother having passed away in the process of my birth which caused the village's inhabitants to impute several curses to me and my dad still suffering from this enormous loss being unable to remarry just yet, but despite of all that my father and I, we were not lonely. We still had each other.

We were poor, too. Being a woodcutter my father had quite a few competitors whom were more preferred by a lot of people. Not that either of us minded, really, since we had enough to not starve to death and to not have to live on the streets. At this time I was pretty content with my life, though not completely happy. I probably missed the presence of another person besides my father to be able to confide in especially in times when father began coming back from the market with a growing amount of unsold logs and steadily decreasing items of food. He never gave up on his job, continuously spending late afternoons and evenings cutting wood in the nearby forest and trying desperately to sell them on the market, in the early morning as well as later night, in the freezing winter as well as humid, sudatory summer. He kept on fighting, come what may. Until one day, it was not enough to support the two of us anymore. That was when it all went wrong.

I know now that my father did not mean any harm, nor did he have much of a choice, but to the young me him marrying a slightly wealthy, childless widow, may it have been out of true love,  to grant me a motherly figure in my life or for the certainty of our well-being, felt wrong. Even though I only knew my mother through the countless stories my father and a few friendly neighbours have told me, yet I always knew deep down that no woman would ever be able to replace her. As expected, my new stepmother was unable to.

At first, we seemed to get along. We did not talk awfully much, but when we did our speech was never filled with disapproval or even hatred. As the time progressed, though, as did her wish to have children on her own. And only children of her own. After the birth of her firstborn she indiscreetly let me feel this. The friendly talking stopped, full meals got more rare, she scolded me for the smallest things, forced me to work like my father did. All that I could have borne if it was not for the horrible fact that she made it so I could barely see my father anymore, even worse, she manipulated him into actually believing that I had become a dead weight to the new family.  One night, it had been a hard day since I had been forced to do the more exhausting chores and I did not have the chance to talk to my father yet since he left very early for the forest, I sneaked out of my bed and into the kitchen in order to meet my father there when I overheard them talking.

“My love, I do very much understand that you love him dearly, but shall I remind you that there will be no future for a child like him? He is weak, does not have any talents. He will be living in the streets anyways. If we do not get rid of him now, we will end up just like him!”

“Oh, but, my dear, he is my only son! He has had a hard life at it is, let us give him some more time!”

“You truly are as thick as the wood you chop out there day by day! That time that you want so desperately grant will cost us a lot of money. Money which we do not posses! I say we send him away.”

“Away? What are you saying?”

“Tomorrow morning at dawn we will all go into the woods to collect brushwood, we claim. Then we will lead him very deep into the forest, so that he will not know the way home anymore. It will be almost night by then, so we tell him to wait at a clearing or anything alike while the both of us say to leave for a short while to collect some more sticks to create a bonfire. Instead of bringing back some wood, we will leave. You know the forest better than your own house. You will lead us back home while your son will be gifted a new life in the forest. He will live, you are aware of that. It is just that he will not live with us and bother us any longer.”

“But-- You cannot--- That is--”

“-the only right thing to do. You are right. Now go to bed. We will be leaving very early.”

A s I listened to the whole conversation my heart dropped in my stomach. So it has been decided. By both of them. This would be my last day at this place I used to call home. 

Quickly, but without making a single sound I ran back into my room and threw myself into my bed. I could not fathom it. My own father did not want to fight anymore. He had given up on himself, on me and most importantly, on us. 

I cried myself to sleep that night, dreading the next morning like a murderer must dread their execution.

It all worked according to her plan, even though as much as I tried, I could not remember the way back home and I got caught in the act of sneaking after them when they left for “collecting sticks for a bonfire” due to the traitorous brushwood that was so dry that a titmouse could have landed on it and even that would have led to the sticks breaking with a loud cracking noise.

There was no way out of my situation. I had to stay behind in the forest, alone and abandoned. Maybe the villagers were right about me being cursed after all.

Since the black veil of the night settled upon the tall trees  and the flames of the once rustling fire I had managed to make myself became increasingly less fierce by the second I decided to rest my head on the clearing I have been led onto hoping imploringly that no predators that inevitably lived all around would harm me in my sleep. 

They did not. Thanks to whomever deserved it. Instead of never being able to open my eyes again I woke up to the sunlight being reflected by the dew sitting gracefully on top of the soft green ocean of blades of grass swaying gently in the warm morning breeze.  The forest I had been scared to death of yesterday suddenly seemed to welcome me as well as the new day.

Additionally to that, I did not have to starve for the clearing was not only filled to the brim with the beauty of the morning, but also with a variety of deliciously looking berries which I learned from my father once upon a time were edible.

And thus, starched and with a tiny spark of naive hope that the morning at the clearing ignited I went on the search for a way to go back to my home as I once knew it. 

I may not have found exactly that, but a home nonetheless. A home I was petrified upon seeing it first because even I knew the tales of children-eating, evil-to-the-bone witches each and every child gets warned of. Turns out the only things I should have been warned of are for one, their enormous, children-adoring hearts and secondly, their sickeningly sweet love and endless adoration towards their wives that one will never ever hear (and, for innocent bystanders, unfortunately enough see) the end of.

My train of thought gets interrupted when I notice that I already arrived at my destination, the very same clearing where I spent my first night, and technically my first morning, in these woods on. It is still the place where the tastiest berries of assumed the whole kingdom, an opinion which I share with my mam, Ymir. Christa pretends to be indifferent about the topic, but I know that she secretly loves them, too (or is it merely the joy in her wife's eyes when she gets to eat her favourite raspberries?).

Slowly slipping out of reality again, I focus on my search for the most beautiful, biggest berries and on the thoughts of the embodiment of silliness that are my magic mums. This intense process of selecting only the best for us to feed on the increasingly louder sounds of dry sticks cracking and long grass rustling as it is matted down by heavy boots completely goes unnoticed by me. 

That is, until a booming voice coming from a more dense growth of bushes and large branches  breaks out in a seemingly endless colourful curses which scares me to death and I only just manage to not spill the basket full of delicious berries that I dropped upon hearing the noise. 

My heart pounding repeatedly in my ribcage I call out to the unknown person “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” It is incredibly rare that any other human would find their way so deep into the forest to end up here  which makes the situation scary, maybe even dangerous, but exciting nonetheless. 

As an answer to my questions the covert is being fought with followed by yet another string of curses, the voice shouting them getting more agitated word after word. After a long, kind of, for me at least, awkward and incredibly hilarious struggle the owner of said voice finally manages to free themselves out of their trap created by mother nature and steps onto the clearing. With a failing attempt to regain parts of their shredded dignity they look at me in a very-- in what is probably supposed to be elegant way. It does not appear to be elegant at all, though. On the contrary, it's more snobbish, bratty if you will. Maybe it is because there are still small branches sticking out of their tousled ash blonde hair making it look like some breed of bird built their nest up there. Additionally to the already ridiculous first image I now have got of them, they were the fanciest clothes I have seen so far which somehow got stained by grass and dirt, an imperfection which they probably did not plan on either.

They keep on staring at me in this strange manner and after a short while this whole image simply is too comical for me and I end up in a fit of pent up giggles that practically begged to escape the very first moment he broke out of those branches with such a great effort which alone should make it obvious that he probably has never actually been in the wild, untamed nature that his hair now resembles so much.

Yes, right. It is a young man about my age,  an incredibly handsome one, may I add, (oh man) that just stumbled out of the forest right in front of my eyes  and is now standing a few feet away at the opposite of the clearing . Perhaps yet another gift the woods granted me?

It only takes him fractions of seconds to react to my continuous laughter which is by changing his expression from “Greetings, I have just arrived. It does not matter at all how that looked, understood? You may kiss my feet.” to “Who do you think you are laughing at a fine man like I naturally am for no reason at all?! My father will hear about this! Just you wait until he sentences you to be hung!” which makes even more impossible for me to stop the chortling sounds to escape from my lips.

A few moments pass before I am able to regain at least some control of myself and by the look of this fine gentleman's face it is a true miracle that he did not explode from being treated in such a way. Right now he is facing me directly, arms crossed in front of his broad, yet lean chest, right foot tapping impatiently at his side having created a patch of mushed grass already and his face as red as the berries I collected earlier. 

This should probably be my cue to excuse myself for my rude and  improper behaviour, but it is just way too amusing to mess with a person which owns such an uncalled-for self-esteem as he obviously is. For the most part at least because honestly, with these looks he could at least be slightly too confident and I would not say a single thing but this is just too good of an opportunity.

Still grinning teasingly I look him dead in the eyes and try to talk to him again “All hail, oh mighty princess! How can I, a mere commoner, be of help for such a poor, obviously aimlessly wandering creature as you, my highness?” I emphasize my teasing by promptly performing a formal curtsy, and a pretty terrible one at that. 

Seemingly offended by my action s the man stands with his hands on his hips and decidedly escaped my gaze by lifting his head up high.  “I am indeed of royalty, as you might have already notice d and I do not, under any circumstances need the help of a  mere commoner like you are for I am not 'aimlessly wandering', but exploring the beautiful nature of the breathtaking country which I soon will inherit.”

“So you really are lost, princess.” I grin in response. By now I can't help the nickname anymore. Truly, you would usually expect such a posh and snotty behavior from a noblewoman that never knew the true promise of a proper upbringing. Well, each man to his own, I suppose though that does not mean that I will be able to take him seriously.

“What happened? Did your oh so noble, kingly horse escape from your so very capable hands?” I inquire mockingly.

The prince, I dare presume  now ,  lowers his still extremely messy head and suddenly tries to avoid my eyes under all costs.  Oh no.

“Oh my god, so it is true indeed!”I gasp. 

“I am so very sorry to hear that, princess. As the gentleman that I am and always have been I consider it my duty to escort the dainty maiden back to the comfort of her fortress. For I, a commoner, a mere servant of your highness, fortunately know this forest like the back of my hand! But if your highness wishes to be left on her own with all those creatures like wolves, bears and not to forget those damned snakes, then so be it. As I take it your highness will be able to fight those in her sleep which must also be happening around here, on the cold, adamant, unforgivable ground, aren't I right? How admirable, princess, how very admirable!”

Now that earns me a proper reaction since his whole demeanour crumbles down for a second and he looks at me with shocked wide eyes as if he had never even thought about beasts like that existing here.

“Wait, what? Actual wolves? A-And bears?”

“Yes, yes. All very hungry waiting desperately for some tender, royal flesh like you have got it to cross their path. Oh, and do not forget about the snakes! They are way more crafty at killing since they will bite and thus poison you while you are asleep on the ground. Very bothersome, these ones!”

“F-fine….. I guess… Please help me to go back home.” the royal son and heir reluctantly agrees to my nagging after a moment of silent consideration and I am actually grateful for him doing so. He may not be the purest soul out there but I still would have felt uncomfortable leaving an obviously inexperienced person in the woods considering my claims about the creatures strolling around are not a complete lie. 

Smiling contently to myself I close the few meters  of distance between us with  confident strides  and press the basket of berries into his hands. Lips still pulled upwards I explain “Good! Then let's go and bring those back to my mum first. She's probably already worrying about me. Oh, and if you happen to  discover some  bay, please let me know. I still need some of that. ”

T he man only looks at me with a very confused expression “What are you talking about?  I thought we were immediately heading to the palace? And what on earth is this bay you mentioned?” Trying to sort his rushing thoughts, he shakes his head and comes to a question that seems to be his most urgent one.

“Who the hell are you anyways? You could be some creepy axe murderer for all I know!” he barked at me, his left hand clutching angrily at the arched handle of the basket.

“Oh excuse me, your highness, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Marco Bodt, son of the Trost witches and I can assure you that there is not a single axe around nor at the place we're heading to.” I shoot him my most amiable smile and reach out to shake his unoccupied hand.

“It is a true pleasure to meet you, sir….?”

“It is Jean. Jean Kirschstein. Nephew of the mighty king and his only heir and now apparently horseless in the claws of an axe murdering witch. Just peachy.”

Despite the disapproving words the man that is no longer nameless to me he, too, sticks out his hand towards me and shakes mine as I laugh gently at his words and go to make a short bow. Prissy or not he is royalty, after all.

That seems to please him causing his aloof demeanour to shift into something more likable, yet still guarded.  I hope Jean will be able to feel more comfortable in this situation soon. It must be quite hard for him to have to confide in a stranger like me as he does not appear to do that quite often. Oh well, there is always a first time.

R etreating my hand I turn around and start walking in the direction of my home where Christa was probably impatiently waiting for me. Making a small gesture to follow me over my shoulder I tell him “Come on, then! We should not waste any time if we want to arrive at the palace before it gets too dark. And do not worry about the bay leaves, I will look for them myself. There was a shrub not far from here if I remember correctly.”

Soon enough Jeans footsteps trailing behind me can be heard along with the low grumble of his voice that sounded an awful lot like “So it is a plant.” which was probably not meant for me to hear. I decided to give him a response anyways.

“You're right. It is a plant that usually grows in tiny shrubs around here since it can get quite cold during winter. We use its leaves which have got a leather-like texture as a spice in all kinds of soups and sauces, but one can also use them and the dark violet to black berries of the plant for healing purposes.” A small humming sound from Jean is to be heard and I turn around, facing him to ask “You really do not know much about nature, do you?”

Despite the harsh glare he aims at me in his short-lived rage I can see his cheeks being tinted a soft shade of pink.  When I turn around once more he huffs and goes to explain himself.

“Well, since my father died when I was still pretty young it has always been clear as day that I would inherit the throne from my father's brother who replaced him after his death. I have been spending a lot of time being taught the knowledge and correct behaviour of a future king. Inside of the walls of my father's fortress, of course. The only times I am ever outside of the palace is for festive occasions when the royal family needs to show up, or my riding lessons, but we both saw how that turned out.”

Not being fooled by the comical way Jean let his little speech end, I tell him quietly “I am very sorry for your loss, Jean.”

“It is nothing.” he murmurs and even from a few steps ahead of him I can detect the unmistakable quiver in his voice. Wanting to distract him with another question I open my mouth to speak only to get interrupted by Jean calling out to me tentatively. 

“Um, hey, Marco. Is this it? Is this that plant you were looking for?”

When I turn to face him I find him pointing at a small plant that only reaches the mid of his calf and looking at me intently. I kneel down to discover that he is right. To my shame I have to admit that he actually found the bay before me. Embarrassed by my inobservance I quickly make a move to break off some of the tiny branches, so mum would have some left over to make some new healing oil from after assuring Jean that he noticed correctly.

After finish ing my task we walke d on in silence, Jean always trailing a few steps behind me.  I take it that he likes keep a certain distance to people, spacial and emotionally which would explain his behaviour from when I first saw him.

Soon enough we arrive at the my family's home and I make a presenting gesture with my arm while telling him “Welcome to our modest abode, my prince!” 

Jean stands and stares while he takes in the hut for several minutes. Finally, he whispers, astonished “But it is so tiny! How can everything you would need fit in there?”

“Well, there are two bedrooms, one for me and one for my mothers. Then you've got the kitchen which is where we cook, eat and sit together, a bathroom and an attic where we store all the things my mums need for their profession. The hut is more than enough if you ask me. But come on in now, we have got no time to waste.”

I grab his right wrist and drag a still awestruck prince through the creaking front door into the kitchen where Ymir is absentmindedly stirring her soup  despite it lacking bay leaves still while staring forlornly at Christa who is sitting at the large wooden table hunched over one of her beloved books about witchcraft. She gently raises her head upon our arrival and needs to make a double take when she finds that I have not returned alone.

Without knowing how to explain myself I awkwardly take the basket out of Jean's hands and set it, along with the bay sticks that I carried myself, on the spot right in front of my mothers eyes with the words “I am back  and got everything you asked for ! Good morning, mam!”

The addressed witch looks at me, straight-faced for what feels like an eternity while everyone around us seems to have become dead-silent. Mere moments before I would have felt so uncomfortable that I would have burst out of the room she beings to crumble and starts to laugh so hard that I am afraid she will die from lack of oxygen. 

The three of us simply stare at her, bewildered by her sudden outburst. Supporting herself on her wife's arm Ymir tries to calm herself enough to speak between her fits of laughter.

“I am certain that your mum did not ask for you to bring your new boyfriend back home! But congratulations, son! He is quite a catch.” 

While Jean let out a choking sound at the straight-forwardness of my mam I had to turn around and hide my face as I groaned at the unbearable embarrassment.

When I felt able to face my mothers I noticed that her comment had earned Ymir a slap on the arm from my mum (serves her right), yet unfortunately also a gleeful grin at her antics. As soon as Christa notices that I am back to my normal skin tone she inquires, her expression turning more serious again “In all honesty, Marco, it would be very nice of you to introduce us. Have we not taught you any manners at all?”

Ashamed, I hang my head before I gesture to my right where Jean is standing next to me.

“Mum, mam, meet Prince Jean Kirschstein. He got lost in the forest after his horse had thrown him off, so I plan on guiding him back to his uncle's palace.”

They just nod understandingly not asking any questions about his origin, as I expected and which he seems glad about. Their kindness and candour never fails to amaze me. Next I point at my mothers respectively and turn sideways to introduce my mothers to Jean.

“Jean, meet my mothers, Christa and Ymir Lenz, the local witches of Trost.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies.” he bows which makes both women giggle. “There is no reason to be so formal, your highness. The pleasure of meeting you is all ours.” my mum reminds him which causes Jean to stand up straight again.

“Would it be alright to bring him back after this? I am aware that you are not fond of me roaming around town without you, but I do intend on keeping my promise.” I ask my mothers who look at each other for a while telepathically discussing the matter at hand, as they always do they can be so strange at times. Finally, Ymir nods as if in agreement and Christa goes to announce their conclusion.

“If the both of you are going now there is a high chance you will not make it back before the sun sets, so please ask Eren and Mikasa to let you stay the night and come back immediately the next morning. Don't take needless risks. Walk along the paths we have shown you. Don't talk to strangers and please come back safe.”

“Oh,” my mam adds “and if you are going to leave now, at least take some bread with you since you missed out on breakfast. We can't have you faint halfway to the palace!”

I grin and eagerly nod while swearing that I will do as told and be back by at least tomorrow noon. After my mum hands me over some pieces of bread she wrapped in a linen cloth I kiss her on the cheek to say goodbye. When I turn around to repeat the gesture to Ymir I find her talking lowly to Jean who is standing a bit more far away from me now and whose blood had risen in his cheeks. Patiently waiting until they have finished talking I silently wonder what my mam could be telling him about that makes him react that way, but knowing her I do not really want to know. Ymir leaves a fazed Jean standing and strides over to me in order to give me a warm hug. I start to question the unnecessarily stretched out duration of it when she whispers in my ear.

“It is obvious that you at least think he's handsome. It would not hurt to try to get a little closer to him for he seems like a very nice young gentleman, do you not think? Please try and stare at him in a less obvious way when you two are alone, yeah? Now, farewell, Marco. I will see yo tomorrow at noon.” She releases me from the hug to give me a smirk in response to my rapidly heating face.

“I love you, too.” I manage to press out before grabbing Jean's wrist and bolting out of the kitchen with the words “Bye, mum, bye, mam. See you tomorrow!” We both leave the house the distant laughter of my mothers still ringing in our ears.

After standing in front of the hut for a minute and trying to calm down Jean tugs his wrist which I did not notice I was still holding on to free from the grasp of my fingers and takes a few steps forward. When he realises that I am not moving he turns around and tells me “Come on, we should get going. Your mother said there is a chance my horse is still around somewhere, so it would be nice if you could find a way back to town that crosses the clearing from earlier.”

After a fleeting moment of consideration of which route to take I finally walk into the forest that is left from me, and soon Jean is walking beside me this time.

“What is it that you wanted to ask me earlier? You know, before I found your plant?” he inquires after a comfortable silence has settled around us for a while.

“Oh, it was just… you did not seem to like your duties at the palace. I was merely wondering what it is that you do like.” I say, surprised that he both, noticed it and brought it up again. My response makes him chuckle and as I cock my head to the side in a questioning manner he goes to explain himself.

“It is funny that you mention this. I have never been asked this, I think. But if you insist… I enjoy reading a lot. Not these boring ones about ancient warriors and battles, but the old ones with tales about life, about love, about the world, how it is and how we see it. Those are the ones that are actually clever, you know? Not a single science book could answer any of the questions that are talked about in there!” I only hum quietly to encourage him to talk on, not daring to interrupt him while the excited glint in his eyes while he is talking is as intriguing as the sparkling morning dew after a stormy night.

“Furthermore, I absolutely adore the exploring the night sky! The stars, the moon, the planets- they are simply fascinating. Our royal astronomer always tells me new facts and stories about them. Ancient mythology is full of tales about how the stars were born and even today I am of the opinion that the night sky just never gets boring. There is always something to discover about it, is that now great?” he finishes and turns to look at me expectantly, that glint now brighter than ever.

“It truly is. You have to show me my star sign some day!” I smile endearingly at him. Who would have guessed that your highness has such a soft core? Certainly not me, but I do not mind it at all.

Grinning broadly Jean assures me that he will, one day, show me the arrangement of stars called Gemini which he told me was mine after I had revealed it to him. He himself was an Aries, apparently and as we made our way through narrow openings between trees that were already here when Trost did not exist and over large branches of slowly dying trees, Jean happily blabbers away about how it is the first sign in the zodiac and based off of Chrysomallus, a flying ram from which the Golden Fleece was made of. That, which later Iason was ordered from his uncle Pelias to receive back from Colchis where he met his wife Medea, though it seemed to go downhill from then on.

It amazed me to see Jean like this, he truly flourished and now I get to experience the beauty that is his blossom. I could listen to him talk for ages, not necessarily because of the things he is telling me so animatedly about, but because of how happy and fascinated he seems going on about greek mythology and manages to make me eager to pay attention to all the relations between the characters that already get confusing after more than three of them being part of such a tale.

After a while, though, Jean's excited story-telling dies down to make room for yet another silence settling between us. As my stomach begins to rumble noisily I decide it is best for us to take a short break from walking and order Jean to settle down on a toppled over tree that is lit by several warm sun rays that fought their long way down here. I take my seat next to him and begin to unfold the cloth in which my mum wrapped the bread. Offering a piece of it to Jean he kindly declines claiming that he had eaten more than enough for breakfast that morning to which I only nod and devote my attention to my first meal that day.

Soon enough Jean interrupts my intense focus by clearing his throat, obviously an attempt to start yet another conversation. When he is sure that I am listening to him he starts out tentatively.

“Um, Marco? I have been wondering… what happened to your real parents? Certainly, Christa and Ymir are wonderful! I am simply curious about where they are.” he asks with a small voice surely internally praying the question was not too inadequate for him to say.

It is not, I decide. Somehow I just feel comfortable, like that with him around things just right and complete. It is truly strange.

“Well,” I begin, bracing myself for the flood of past emotions to well up once again and focus my gaze on my hands.

“When I was born, my actual mother died from the exhaustion of it, so I lived alone with my father who was a woodcutter. That was, until I was six when suddenly we did not have enough money anymore which was why my father went to marry a widow who was more wealthy than we were. But she did not like me since I was no child of her own, she did not treat me very well either. Then, one day, she decided that she would not want me to live with them anymore and thus convinced my father that it was best for them to suspend me in the forest. I felt… extremely scared and betrayed back then, but now I know that it was not my father's fault, but hers. Fortunately, I found Christa and Ymir who were willing to take me in. I am eternally grateful for that.” I finish quickly in order to at least uphold some control of my sentiments in which I succeed.

Finally looking up again I find Jean staring at me with eyes full of pity, comfort and something else I cannot quite place. For a few moments he does nothing but holding me in place with that intense gaze of his. Then, out of nowhere he lets himself fall forward to give me a bone-crushing hug. Not knowing how to react I hesitantly wrap my own arms around his torso. We stay like that for a while. The warmth and closeness makes me feel at home and, as a result I am able to chase away the bad memories and just let myself be held and comforted.

“I'm so sorry to hear that, Marco. You truly deserved much better than that.” Jean murmurs after what he deemed was appropriate to interrupt the silence.

“It is alright, Jean. That happened a long time ago. It does not bother me as much as it did back then, but thank you for this.”

My response startles him, he releases me from his grip and holds me an arm's length away from him. His brain apparently only now catches up with his actions as he begins to flush a burning shade of red and repeatedly excuses himself for his impulsive behaviour. I am just promising him how he did not make a fool of himself because of it when I suddenly hear hooves thundering on the ground near us. I cannot see what it is through all the trees, but it has to be a horse running blindly around the forest. Jean's head snaps in the direction of the sound, expression hopeful as he calls out “Cassiopeia! Cassiopeia, girl, is that you?”

The thundering fades and is only soft snuffles are left to be heard. At that Jean jumps up from his seat and hurries to where he heard what probably is his horse. Hurrying to put the bread into the linen cloth I go after him as quick as possible.

When I arrive I find Jean standing in front of a breathtakingly beautiful white horse carrying a fancy brown saddle on its back, his hands raised in an attempt to calm the still pacing animal while telling it hushed words of praise. Cassiopeia, as he called the horse, comes to a stop soon after and Jean tries to approach it with careful steps. As soon as he is standing directly in front of the white beauty he goes to stroke her strong neck.

“Hey now. Everything is all right. I am here, just calm down.” he says quietly to not scare the horse again.

“Come here, Marco! I want to introduce the two of you.”

“I really do not know if that would be a great idea. I fear that she will not like me.” I answer, rather being the type to admire creatures like these from afar.

“That excuse is not good enough. You better get acquaint with her since she will be your quick way out of here. And we are in great need of Cassiopeia if we want to arrive at the palace in time before it gets dark. Look, the sun is already way past the zenith!”

I hate that he is right.

And so I reluctantly approach Jean's horse until I stand right next to him. After a moment of just standing there he sight, grabs my wrist and holds my hand out to Cassiopeia snout. Her nostrils flare as she takes in my scent, but other than that she does nothing. Seemingly content, Jean now makes my hand move along her warm and silky nose to make me realise that she will do no harm.

Having calmed down a little from my initial nervousness there is one question stuck in my head.

“Why did you name her Cassiopeia?”

“Because it is the name of a star sign, too. It is a sign that again was named after a wife of a king that was so incredibly full of herself that he offended the nereids, daughters of the god of the sea which Cassiopeia learned to regret soon after. It fits her, I think. And she fits me too, that is if she does not develop a mind of her own, of course.” he explains and chuckles endearingly at the end. Cassiopeia must really mean a lot to him then.

“I am glad that we found her” I say and Jean only nods in silent agreement while already dragging me to the horse's left side before announcing that he would help me to hoist myself in the saddle. I hesitate and look at Jean desperately, not really wanting to sit on a horse that already had thrown off her very owner. But he does not take a no as an answer in this one and so assists me as I throw myself over Cassiopeia's back like a sack full of hay. Jean snickers a little at the obviously hilarious image and follows me suit only in a more elegant way.

“Okay, now hold on tight and tell me which way to go. Do not worry I cannot let her go fast in the forest anyways.”

I only wrap my arms around his waist in response and try my best to direct him through the woods as best as I can. Soon enough the trees open themselves in front of us and reveal the edge of the forest. And so we ride over several fields and small rivers towards the town of Trost, our way illuminated by the almost setting sun. Even when we arrive at the outskirts of the town Jean needs to ask me which way to go which leads me to ask “Hey Jean, you have rarely been to Trost, am I right?”

He hums and answers “Yes, you are right. My father's fortress in which I live with my mother is in Hermina. I am just here for a short holiday with my uncle, at least that is what he promised me.”

“What do you mean?” I inquire, a little disappointed that I will not be able to see Jean more often from now on since he resides in a completely different city.

I feel him sigh before he tells me “My uncle proposed to go on a ride with me today and show me around for a bit, but you know the royal duties were calling and he could not make it. So I simply went to go explore the region on my own just to spite him and we both know where it got me.”

“You are a pretty impulsive kind of person, are you not?” I conclude from this and his previous actions.

Jean only chuckles “Yes, but what can you do about it?” to which I shrug, not being able to respond, and I wrap my arms a little tighter around his torso while I still got the chance to do so.

The rest of the ride to the palace which is not far from the center of Trost is cast in a heavy silence since neither of us is able to find the right thing to say anymore. It does not shock anyone that when we arrive at the gates of the fortress we simply stay put, frozen in place.

Being the first one moving I lean my forehead against his shoulder blades and sigh.

“So this is it?” I murmur my voice muffled by his jacket of a material so expensive and rare I do not even know it.

“Not if you do not want it to be.” Jean answers seemingly unfazed by the whole situation. I perk up at the suggestion.

“Excuse me?”

“Tonight, be my guest. I am sorry, but I cannot grant you a room of your own since my uncle will be celebrating my arrival tomorrow night and all the guest rooms are stuffed already as it is, but if you do not mind sharing a bed with me you should be fine” he declares.

Ah, there it is. The confidence from when I first saw him, only this time I do not mind it a single bit. Making a mental note to visit Eren and Mikasa tomorrow on my way back home to ask them for keeping this one a secret, I agree to Jean's offer.

And so it happens that after we brought Cassiopeia back to the stables we spent the night wrapped in each others arms, gazing at the stars above us, Jean showing me his favourite constellations and eagerly telling me tale after tale about them. Huddled together like that I feel invincible, like I am standing on top of the world and never want to descend.

And when the light of the moon illuminates Jean's eyes that gaze into mine so lovingly as if he was under some kind of spell caused by me I truly feel like we are princes of the universe.


End file.
